


in another life

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Curses, Ghosts, Incorporeal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Sort Of, with help!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Harry might have been temporarily de-corporealized, but Draco thinks he's as boo-tiful as ever.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741
Comments: 23
Kudos: 182





	in another life

**Author's Note:**

> the october 7 prompt for kinktober 2020 is— _ghost sex_.

“Please stop trying to levitate the ingredients,” Draco says without turning around. He doesn’t get a reply, but the silence behind him turns sulky, and he hears the glass vials settle back to stillness.

Sighing, Draco pours a careful measure of distilled water into the lightly bubbling cauldron, stirs it thrice widdershins, then turns around and crosses his arms. “Look. I get that you’re bored. But my lab is _not_ the place to try and— _manifest,_ or whatever it is you’re doing. Can’t you go float around and bother Weasley or something?”

Harry’s sigh is gusty, and he’s close enough that normally, Draco would feel the exhale.

 _Normally_. Draco snorts to himself. He hasn’t known _normal_ in almost a month.

Three and a half weeks ago, Harry had been out on a routine patrol with his partner and a group of trainees around Diagon Alley. It had been a chilly Tuesday night in early April, traditionally a fairly low-crime night in a low-crime time of year; an ideal time to bring the trainees out to give them a taste of what a standard patrol night looks like.

If they wanted a _routine patrol,_ Draco’s thought often throughout the last weeks, they should never have sent the trainee squad along with Harry. Nothing his fiancé _ever_ does is routine.

Harry had made his return that night known by floating directly _through_ their front door, causing Draco to throw his drink against the wall in fright. Some two-bit necromancer had chosen _that_ night of all nights to try and raise Voldemort by tossing some patched-together potion on Harry, and in trainees’ panicked stampede hadn’t been able to get home to Draco soon enough for a panacea to be administered.

And now?

Harry’s a ghost.

Well. That’s a little overdramatic.

Harry’s _incorporeal_.

“I’m _bored,_ Draco,” Harry whinges, floating despondently through Draco’s boiling cauldron to the other side of the room. “Ron told me to leave him alone. Hermione doesn’t even have any more _tests_ to run on me. And now _you_ don’t even want to spend time with me.” His pout is prodigious.

Draco sighs. “It’s not that, Harry. I think I’m really close to a breakthrough, and having you floating over my shoulder and fucking with the lab breaks my concentration. Look. Why don’t you just...oh, I don’t know, float along and scare some of the neighbors. Give me an hour—one hour, and I think I’ll have something for you to try. Can you please— _please_ —entertain yourself, _not in here,_ and then I’ll have something for you to do?”

Harry gloomily floats directly through Draco’s body. “Fine. _Fine_. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

An hour later on the dot, Harry floats back into the room. Based on the sneaky little smile he’s trying to hide, Draco decides not to ask what he’s been up to. Besides, he’s too excited to get into it.

Draco holds up a vial filled with a shimmering silver liquid. “Harry, I’m going to throw this over your...er...form. I don’t know if it’s going to do the trick right away, or all the way, but it should make _some_ difference. I just need you to close your eyes, okay?”

Harry floats to the center of the room, tucks his ghostly glasses into his front pocket, and squeezes his eyes shut. “Go ahead.”

Draco takes a deep breath, uncorks the vial, and splashes it all over Harry’s fuzzy, translucent body.

They both freeze for a moment, waiting, and then Harry reaches out for Draco, pauses, then strokes his finger down Draco’s arm.

Draco’s heart plunges—it didn’t work—but then Harry scrunches his forehead, and suddenly…

“Can you feel that?” Harry asks quietly. “Can you feel my hand?”

“Yes,” Draco breathes, a smile taking over his face. “Oh my god, Harry. It’s working. It’s going to work. We’re going to bring you back!”

“ _You’re_ going to bring me back, you overly-modest moron,” Harry retorts, gliding closer and pressing himself against Draco as best he can. Draco’s heart lurches at the extremely light pressure he feels all along his torso. “I can’t believe it. You’re an absolute genius. I love you so much.”

Draco feels giddy, and when he cautiously places his hand where Harry’s shoulder blade should be—and _he can feel it_. He feels Harry shudder against him.

“Oh,” Harry whispers, his voice small and awed. “I forgot...Merlin, Draco, I haven’t touched anyone in almost a month. I forgot what it feels like. _Draco_. I miss you. I wish we could…” He hesitates, and oh, Draco can feel him tense, just a bit, just the barest whisper of a change in his posture, and he relishes it. “Well. I’m sure it wouldn’t work. But Draco, I miss touching you. I miss _being with_ you. Do you think...no, that...probably we…”

“Spit it out, Potter,” Draco drawls, pulling Harry closer to him.

Harry chuckles into his neck. “Sorry. I was going to say...do you think there’s any way we could...you know. Have sex? Of any kind? Now that we can sort of feel each other?”

Draco draws back a bit and thinks about it. “Well...right now, I don’t think so,” he finally admits. “I can tell how hard you’re focusing on keeping yourself… _here,_ right now, and I just don’t know if it would work. But maybe, if you have a few more doses of the potion, we could try? It’s safe to administer every twelve hours, so why don’t we see what happens after the next dose?”

* * *

Twelve and a half hours later, Draco and Harry are laying in their bed. The lines of Harry’s body are slightly more defined, and when he reaches out and touches Draco’s face, the feeling of contact is the same, but Harry no longer has to concentrate to maintain it.

They try kissing, but it just doesn’t feel right, so instead Draco rolls onto his back and unbuttons his trousers and slowly pulls them down, Harry’s hands ghosting over his as he straddles Draco’s thighs.

“Oh,” Harry sighs, running his hands up Draco’s thighs and pressing down with his fingers. “Merlin. It’s like...it’s like I put it out of my head, what I was missing, what I didn’t get to have until you figured it out. And now that I know you can fix me…” He traces down Draco’s cock, a featherlight touch that sets Draco’s whole body shivering. “...now that I know i’m coming _back,_ I can’t wait any longer.” He curls his hand around Draco’s prick and squeezes, and Draco can see his knuckles turning white (whiter) with the strain, but it feels like just the barest tease of a touch. “Draco, please, touch yourself, and I’ll...it’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing, I can put my hand over yours and we can pretend, okay? Please. I need you.” His voice is pleading, and Draco wishes he could dig his fingers into Harry’s hair, ground him and reassure him that Draco’s never going to leave.

Instead, he rolls to the side to kick his trousers off the rest of the way and conjures some lube, and with Harry’s gaze intent on him slowly runs his hand down his own torso, stopping to flick at his nipples before he takes himself in hand, moaning. He feels the faint pressure of Harry’s hand over his, and looks down to stare at their joined hands as he strokes slowly over his cock.

“Fuck,” he whines, speeding up just a bit. It’s been a while for him, too, and he’s felt bad wanking, only touching himself furtively, mechanically in the shower—even the hint of Harry’s touch is the best he’s felt in nearly a month. “Harry, can you—”

Harry is a step ahead of him, fumbling at his robes until he finally loses patience and squints hard, and his robes disappear entirely. He reaches down and grabs his prick, and Draco is relieved to see Harry’s whole body relax as it’s clear that he _can_ touch himself.

They move together, Harry’s hand holding Draco’s as he strokes himself, or pulling on his balls, or tracing down to circle the lightest of touches around his hole. Draco can’t lay still, arches into Harry’s hand, his body responding to the faint pressure like it’s a tease, like he needs to beg for more.

Harry pushes his finger inside Draco, just the smallest bit, and that’s enough—he twists his hand savagely over his cock and arches his back, crying out as he comes all over his own stomach and chest.

“Oh fuck—” Harry chokes out, before he’s coming too, but even though Draco can _see_ it, he can’t _feel_ it, and as amazing as it felt to be with Harry again, his heart twists at the lack.

 _It’s temporary,_ he says firmly, spelling himself clean and pulling Harry down, holding him as tightly as he can, feeling as much of his body as he can. _He’ll be back soon_.

Draco’s drifting off to sleep when Harry murmurs, “Thank you. For never giving up. I love you.”

“W'llnever,” Draco slurs, and when he dreams that night, Harry is whole and solid and laughing in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr post for this fic is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/631376098896314368/kinktober-day-7-in-another-life).
> 
> ps i had several adult beverages while watching the vice presidential debate prior to writing this so if there are any typos...honestly, i am not sure i want to know 🙃🍷you can also blame the wine for the summary.


End file.
